


Shine Bright (Like a Diamond)

by Taimat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (Rating WILL change), (sadly), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragon Age Fusion, Bathing/Washing, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Inquisitor Thor, Loki Whump, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, Medical Procedures, Past Torture, Pre-Slash, Rating May Change, Saarebas Loki, Tags May Change, The Qun Sucks, Warnings May Change, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2020-11-26 04:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20923946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taimat/pseuds/Taimat
Summary: “But first, what is your name?”The man blinks up at him in confusion, so Thor tries a different tactic.He points to himself, “Thor,” the goes around the circle, “Tony, Natasha, Steve, Valkyrie,” and then he gestures at their newest member.Those eyes narrow, and the man takes a breath. “Saarebas. Mage.”Thor shakes his head. Points at himself again. “Inquisitor.” And continuing, “Runesmith, rogue, Templar, warrior,” and to Loki, “mage.”Then Thor tries names again. This time, when he gets to Loki, there’s a pause. In the man’s eyes, it’s like someone rekindling a fire that has long gone out. But somehow, an ember catches and sparks, and Thor hears the most beautiful sound in the world.Wounded lips part, the man’s whole body braces as if expecting to be struck, but he perseveres.“Loki.”And that, Thor is certain, is the sweetest sound he will ever hear. He’s as certain of it as he is of anything, and the sound of the name curls warm and comforting in his belly.It’s not much, but it’s a start, and Thor beams down at him, completely enraptured.“Loki,” he smiles. “Welcome home.”





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Rihanna’s “Diamonds.” (Please check out the cover by Steam Powered Giraffe, if you’ve time!)
> 
> Also, I don’t have all the details of this AU hashed out, but I’m doing my best!
> 
> Ratings and tags will change as the fic goes on, and Thorki is the end goal. This is your warning!
> 
> Comments and kudos are so, so appreciated! Emoji, keysmashing, anything to let me know you liked it and to keep going, please! ^^
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (I’m @ ElvenInquisitor on Twitter. Feel free to bug me over there, too! I post WIPs and polls, sometimes~)
> 
> Also also, it’s 3:30 am and I have no beta. Any mistakes are mine! Please pardon me. orz

When the mask comes off, the first thing Loki does is breathe.

He blinks in confusion, notes that the air seems clearer, this way, but that’s all. That’s the most he can process.

He doesn’t process the look of shock and horror in Thor’s eyes, beholding his face. He doesn’t even feel the shaking fingertips that trace the seam of his mouth where it’s sewn shut. He hardly even notices as Thor starts twisting his collar to and fro, looking for a way to remove it.

And when Thor abandons him to loot the bodies for the key, Loki simply stands there. Silent. Unmoving. It’s what he was raised to do. He waits, he listens, and he comes only when called.

“Bloody barbaric fucking…” comes the snarled muttering from behind him, but it doesn’t phase Loki. He’s still as stone, waiting to be carted off to the next battle. His handlers have fallen, but he is useful, in the way that a sledgehammer is useful. He will get picked up, again.

When the collar falls from his throat, Loki actually gasps. Through only his nose, of course. His jaws might not even know how to work, anymore. Lyrium poured through the seams, just enough to sustain him… He knows nothing else.

Speech. Laughter. Even screaming has been sealed away, though he has faint memories of such cries being torn from him in his youth.

Chained hands rise to feel at his neck. To feel for what isn’t there. And he begins to panic.

“Right,” Thor growls. “Thanks for reminding me about these, too.”

And then strong hands are turning Loki’s delicate wrists this way and that, searching out the keyhole to unlock manacles that have been secured for so long that Loki doesn’t remember what it was to be unbound.

He’s still frozen. Arms halfway to his throat.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, gears start turning again that have not seen work in an age, and Loki tries to understand...to understand…

“We’ll have to see a healer about that mouth of yours,” Thor continues. “Or, well, I could probably handle it. But we should at least get back to my place. I can care for you properly, there. These Maker-damned wretched barbarian…” Thor continues rambling, and for a moment, Loki tries to listen.

But then Thor tugs on one of his wrists.

It’s not a chain, but it’s a restraint of some kind. This man is taking him somewhere. This must be his new handler.

Loki’s mind goes blank again, those rusted cogs falling once again silent.

~~~~~~~

Steps through the snow, each as cold as the last. Loki doesn’t register them, but Thor does. He grumbles the whole way back to Skyhold, tempted to mount his horse — it’s Ferelden and can surely carry both of them — but the limpness of his partner has him worried.

Partner? No. Ward? Maybe. Prisoner? Certainly not. There seems to be nothing left of the man’s soul left to imprison.

Scowling, Thor stomps extra hard.

His...charge, perhaps, shows no signs of cold. He does not shiver. His lips aren’t turning blue. He doesn’t even seem uncomfortable. Just that same, hollow expression that unnerves Thor down to his soul. It’s  _ wrong, _ in so many ways. No person should look like that.

The man would surely fall limply off Thor’s mount, and at least this way, he seemed to be keeping pace just fine. One foot in front of the other.

Their return home yields little fanfare. Thor prefers it that way. Waves as he passes through the sea of tents, greetings as he enters the doors, and a lone, dark figure waiting for him on the long stairway.

He meets her halfway, his horse having been handed off to a stableboy and the saarebas still following silently behind.

“Saw me coming, then?” he murmurs.

“The ravens did,” Natasha replies. His spymaster. “And who’s this?”

Thor shrugs, but he leans a bit to the side to let her see.

Natasha gasps. “Thor. In-Inqusi— Thor. Do you know what you’ve found?”

“My guess is either the most broken prisoner I’ve ever seen, or...well, to be honest, I don’t see any other options.”

Natasha gives just enough of a huff to show her displeasure, and then she’s leading them all into the main building behind her.

“You, Inquisitor, need educating. And I’m inclined to let Valkyrie do it because she so enjoys treating you like an idiot. And in the meantime, I’m going to bring our boy up from the smithy and see if he can’t take a look at those stitches. I would bet money that they’re enchanted, and if so, we’re going to have to be careful about their removal.”

Without another word, she turns heel and strides the rest of the way up the stone steps. Thor has no choice but to follow, and the man behind him stumbles along quietly.

Mere moments after they’ve cleared the doorway of the hall, Valkyrie appears at Natasha’s side, seemingly out of thin air.

“Who’s this, then?” she asks, all cocked head and raised eyebrows.

Thor huffs. “I am attempting to ascertain that very fact.”

“Oh, it’s so cute when you use big words,” she coos. “But really, where in the Andraste’s giant tits did you find a saarebas?”

Thor pauses in his quick strides toward the smithy, though Natasha continues on with a small smile.

“Maker, Thor, good thing you’re bloody skilled at fighting or I swear the Inquisition would have ousted you ages ago.”

All Thor does is frown at her. “Are you done, yet?”

Valkyrie sighs. “All right, all right. But only for the sake of this poor bastard.” She looks Loki over with no small amount of pity. “What, well,  _ who _ you’ve got there is a mage.”

“Oh.” Thor blinks. “Well, that’s fine and all. But what—“

“A  _ Qunari _ mage,” Valkyrie continues. “A saarebas.”

Thor is speechless for a moment, and he looks over his new companion as though expecting to see horns where he had somehow missed them.

Loki, for his part, stirs a bit. The use of his name, the way he’s addressed —  _ saarebas _ — awakens him. Is he needed? Where is the enemy? Who shall he follow?

Questions, questions, questions…

He sways.

“Steady on!” Valkyrie is quickly at one side, and Thor at the other.

At that moment, Tony comes barreling down the hall, swerving around broken masonry they still haven’t been able to fix and muttering under his breath.

“Okay, buddy,” he glances quickly at Loki, sizing him up for a moment, then stares Thor down hard. “We’ve gotta get him down to my workplace right now. No fuss, no fanfare. As normally and casually as you can manage, got it? Nat gave me an overview, but this is one big mess we’ve got on our hands.” He nods. “Right. After me.”

And the four of them make their way down to the workshop, trying very hard to seem as though they’re not supporting a hollowed-out shell of a being between them.

They’re only mildly successful, but it will have to do.

The moment the door closes behind them, Tony locks it sharply and rounds on Thor.

“Where in the everloving fuck did you find a saarebas?”

“You keep saying that, but I have no idea what that is.”

“Bloody—“ Tony growls. “Don’t they teach Fereldens anything these days?”

Below the steps, Nat chuckles a bit as she leans back against one of the tables, watching with mild interest. Valkyrie makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like, “men,” before stepping away to join her, leaving Thor supporting Loki by himself.

To be fair, Loki doesn’t need much supporting. He’s standing on his own. But the flicker of interest that should shine behind his eyes, that sign of life and sentience, is dim and nearly snuffed out. If Thor were honest with himself, he’d admit that it’s...unnerving, to say the least.

Tony runs a hand through his hair. “Saarebas are Qunari mages. How in Thedas someone who is clearly not Qunari got swept up in all this, I’ve no idea, but that’s what he is.” Tony carries on before Thor can even try to ask questions. “Bloody barbaric, really. Believing that mages are these monstrous weapons. They break them down completely, you see. Look at him. Probably nothing going on in that head of his, and I really don’t mean it as an insult. It’s not his fault.”

Looking suddenly at Thor, Tony continues, “How did you find him? What did he look like?”

“Much the same,” Thor replies, eyes narrowed, “though he wore a mask of metal and was bound to it with heavy chains.”

Tony growls. “Enchanted, no doubt. To keep him in check. How’d you get them off?”

Thor shrugs. “There was a key.”

“Thank fuck for small miracles, then. That would’ve been a bitch to remove. But this is still gonna be really, really unpleasant.”

“What is?” Thor’s brow furrows.

Tony gestures at Loki’s face. “You’ve noticed his mouth, I assume?”

“Yes, of course. I hadn’t had a chance to cut—“

“Oh, no, no. You won’t be doing any of that,” Tony interrupts.

“Pardon?”

“Those stitches are enchanted. They…” Tony growls again. “Okay, mages usually cast using words, yeah? Well, Qunari are so damn afraid of their mages that they sew their mouths shut to dampen their power. And those won’t be any ordinary stitches. I’ve only come across them in books, not in person, but if I’m correct — which I always am — they need to be untied at one end, then unthreaded, hole by hole.”

Thor’s jaw clenches, and his throat works to make some sort of sound. “That’s… But…”

“Yeah, buddy. I know. But it’s the only way those things are going to come out. Assuming you wanna keep him, that is.”

“Keep him?”

“I mean, are we sending him back where you found him?”

Thor’s reaction is visceral, moreso than even he himself expected. “Never! Never would I send someone back to such a thing!” His grip on Loki’s arm tightens, but Loki shows no signs of awareness.

“Thought so. You’re a good guy, I’ll give you that.” Tony grins and pats Thor’s free arm heavily. “So, should we get stared?”

“Immediately, if possible.”

“Right.” Tony exhales, then looks down at Natasha and Valkyrie. “Can you two see about getting me some clean linens? And definitely ask Bruce for a few healing potions and a pot of that prophet’s laurel paste he’s been working on. We’re gonna need all the help we can get, and this is just for starters.”

It speaks to the two women’s respect for both Tony and the situation that they leave to carry out his requests with no complaint.

“Thor, buddy, you’re gonna help me clear a space down here. We can probably lay him out on one of the tables, if I move some things around. And you’ll definitely have to stay and help hold him. I can’t restrain him and also disenchant and unthread on my own.”

Thor swallows. “I understand. But if he is a mage, might it not be a good idea to ask for the captain’s aid? He’d be able to quell any magical mishaps, yes?”

Tony huffs. “You wanna bring the Templar down here?” Their rivalry is mostly settled, for now, though tensions had certainly run high at first. Vints didn’t take easily to Templars, and knowing that the good captain would be brought in to forcibly silence their new mage friend sent Tony’s stomach into a horrible churning. But Thor has a point.

“Right. I hate that you’re right. Okay. New game plan. You go get Rogers, and I’ll clear some space. Sound good?”

Thor tilts his head. “But that will leave you alone with him.” He squeezes Loki’s arm in what he hopes feels like an apology.

“Oh, don’t worry. He’s not going anywhere, and I’m completely safe. This is going to sound awful, because it is, but your new friend here? He’s like a beast. A trained animal. He won’t come unless he’s called. So go and be useful. I’ll be fine until you get back.”

Hearing Stark speak like that hurts, but Tony cannot deny the truth of his words, especially when he has so little knowledge in this area, and everything he’s seen so far seems to prove Stark’s points.

And so he goes, as quickly as can be managed.

The captain is, as can be expected, toiling over papers in his study. Thor knows he would rather be anywhere else, but such is his duty, and so here he stays.

“Captain?” Thor tries, not wanting to alarm him and cause ink blots everywhere. The door creaks open easily, and Steve’s “Come in!” is a bit cheery, as though he’d been expecting someone, a theory further confirmed by the furrow of Steve’s eyebrows.

“Oh, Thor. I’d thought… Never mind. What can I do for you?”

“I’ll fill you in on the way, but your services might be required.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “What kind of services?”

Thor sighs. He hates to be the bearer of bad news. “The silencing kind.”

Steve presses his palms to his eyes. “I’m not, I mean, I haven’t… Can’t Stephen do it?”

Thor pauses. “The silencing, perhaps, but you’ve also got the strength we might need.”

With a frown, Steve nevertheless gets up and makes his way over to the door. “What are we talking, here?”

The words still feel strange and new on his tongue, but Thor presses onward. “I’ve found a saarebas. The mask and shackles have been removed, but Stark thinks we’ll need reinforcements while removing the stitches.”

During his next glance at the captain, Thor notices that he’s gone a bit pale.

“A saarebas… Truly? Of course, they’re hard to mistake, but why was it out alone?”

“I, well, might’ve killed the rest of the scouting party,” Thor admits.

Steve shakes his head fondly and follows Thor through the courtyard. “That does sound like you. Kill first and ask questions later.”

Thor huffs. “They started it! And besides, they were the ones sneaking around our territory. I couldn’t even get a word in before I was under attack.” He frowns. “And I left the mage for last, because he was furthest away, but once the rest were dead, he just...stopped. Like the whole of him went away.”

Steve sighs. “Has anyone explained saarebas to you, yet?”

“At some length, yes,” Thor grumbles.

“I know what you want to do, Thor. You’re a good man. And I certainly won’t stop you. But you have to understand that what you hope will come to pass might not even be possible.”

Thor stares at him. “But Bucky came back! You should know better than anyone what’s possible.”

Steve smiles fondly at the mention of his recovering-but-much-improved lover. “Yes, but you have to understand. For Bucky, I was his anchor. A connection to the person he used to be. Your new friend in there?” Steve nods toward the workshop door as they pause outside of it. “We don’t know what anchors he has, if any. We don’t know what’s left of him. Do you understand?”

Thor swallows hard, but ever-determined, he pushes on. “I understand. But it won’t stop me from trying.”

“No,” Steve agrees. “I didn’t expect it would.” He sighs and adjusts his mantle. “Shall we, then?”

Thor nods, and they push through the door together.

True to his word, Stark has cleared off a table. Valkyrie is draping one end in linens while Natasha stirs a small pot nearby. A few glass bottles are balanced on another workshop table, glowing green. There is also one lyrium potion. Just in case.

Steve tries not to look at it.

The saarebas stands quite still in the middle of it all, appearing to have moved not a single inch, quite uninterested in the goings-on around him.

“Welcome back,” Tony grunts. “And hello to you, Captain.”

“Tony,” Steve nods.

“We’re about set up here,” the runesmith continues. “Just gotta get Mister Silent to lie down on our makeshift bed, here. Would you mind, Thor?”

Thor wouldn’t have it any other way. He already feels a protective bond forming. He wants to shelter and heal. And this will be the first step in what is sure to be a long journey.

He steps toward the mage slowly, movements gentle, and grasps the man’s shoulders. “We’re going to help you, now. Do not worry. All will be well. I will not leave you.”

Loki looks at him vacantly, blinks slowly, and then follows without protest as Thor propels him backwards toward the table.

“We need you to lie down here. Can you do that?” Thor asks. When no response is forthcoming, no nod or other movement, Thor sighs and continues to push Loki backward into the table. “Lie down,” he commands.

The short phrase penetrates where the longer request had not, and Loki sits down mechanically. He maneuvers as though his wrists are still chained together, as one, and he rests on his back with both hands flat atop his belly.

“Very good.” Thor can’t help the bit of praise, petting at the matted mess of hair on the man’s head. That’ll have to be washed and combed later…

But first. First come the stitches.

“Right then,” Tony announces before striding closer, hands already moving in a practiced manner.

Watching Tony work is a marvel. Wondrous. He’s a jack-of-all-trades, just as good with a bit of magic as he is with his tools, able to enchant and disenchant. Not too shabby with a blade or hammer when need be, but where he really excels is explosives. His mind is a nimble, dangerous thing, and Thor wonders often what it must be like to have that kind of mental acumen.

He also thanks the Maker that Tony ended up on their side, due to a relatively recently rewired moral compass that placed him firmly on the side of “making sure innocents don’t get eaten by darkspawn.” As soon as he’d been made aware his skills were needed, Tony was onboard and making miracles happen seemingly out of thin air.

Speaking of, the smith is currently waving about a magical schematic, the words and runes whizzing through the air as quickly as his fingers can twitch. Thor can see an image of their new friend’s face, adorned with the now-visible complete inner workings of the laces holding his jaw closed.

Tony hums and zooms in on one end, narrows his eyes, then switches to the other end. Debates.

“We should start on his left side. The runes seem a little weaker there. And I’m gonna…” he turns and rifles through the mess on the table behind him, producing a headpiece sporting a very impressive magnifying lens.

“Should we get Doctor Strange down here, too?” Steve asks, completely honestly. “Or Doctor Banner?”

Tony huffs. “A rift mage? Naw, won’t help. We’re not dealing with demons and the arcane, here, Captain. This?” Tony points at his schematic and enhances the image of the left side knot. “This is mechanical. And rune-ical, but I’ve got that covered. As for Banner?” Tony nods to Valkyrie, who brandishes one of the potion bottles with a little swish. “He’s already done what he can for now, and you can bet your fur-lined ass that we’ll be whisking the patient away to him after this is over. But for now, think of this as fixing a machine more than a person.”

Steve frowns. “He’s not a machine, Tony.”

Growling, Tony settles the magnifying eyepiece over his face. “I know that, you nug tart. But the Qunari have been treating him as one for Maker knows how long, and we’ve gotta undo what they did before we can get him on any sort of humane recovery program, understand?”

Tony might be smaller than Steve, but down here, he reigns supreme. Even Thor would hesitate to question him. And so Steve backs down with thinned lips and a clenched jaw.

“Now,” Tony cracks his knuckles, “is everyone on board? We all good?”

Nods all around.

“Okay, Nat? You’re on cleanup and potential potion duty. Thor, Val, Cap? I’m gonna need you to hold him still. Dunno how much he can restrain himself. And Cap? Silencing, if necessary.” Tony nods at the lyrium potion, and Steve closes his eyes and nods sharply. He’ll do what needs to be done. “Positions, everyone. I’m going in.”

Tony dunks both hands into a tub of greenish water, emerging with what looks like two pairs of tweezers.

No cutting, Thor recalls. And winces.

The schematics flicker for a moment, then hold, and Tony bends down.

The whole group takes a collective breath, save for Loki, who lies motionless.

And then Tony is moving, all quick, delicate precision.

Valkyrie, Thor, and Steve are positioned around Loki’s body, Thor at his head, pinning his shoulders, and Valkyrie and Steve to either side, at Loki’s arms. Thor presses down gently, his whole body tense and ready to clamp his charge’s head still at a moment’s notice, but the man on the table does nothing.

He is eerily still.

In midair, the glowing knot of thread unties, and all parties relax a bit.

“Hold your horses, people,” Tony grumbles. “This part is where it gets painful. Ready?”

He spares them all a glance, waits for nods of affirmation, and then he dives in again.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, buddy,” he murmurs to their patient, “but I’ll try and get this over with as quickly as possible. If you want a break, lift your hand, okay?”

Tony waits, but he gets no reaction, as expected.

“Right.” He swallows. “Places, everyone.”

And then the unthreading begins.

It seems quick, at first. Relatively little thread needs to pass through the holes before Tony starts on the next one, but with each stitch undone, the thread gets longer. Time seems to dilate, and Thor’s caught between wanting to hold his breath and hyperventilating.

Watching this torture, necessary though it may be, curls around his heart like nettles, spikes driving deep.

And yet, the prone man stays quite still. His breathing quickens ever so slightly, hardly noticeable, but he is silent and doesn’t so much as twitch.

Thor doesn’t know what to do. He wants to help somehow, but it doesn’t seem he needs to do much holding. His eyes are riveted on that long thread, sliding through skin and leaving trails of blood in its wake.

Shouldn’t these wounds have healed? Surely this should be like removing an earring, he thinks.

Damned enchantments.

This must be intentional.

The exhausting, drawn-out process of it would be too much to stomach on one’s own, Thor thinks. Not that the man on the bed would have tried, based on the way he was when Thor found him.

Would he have died like that? Chained and tied? Starved to death slowly, perhaps? Or turned to possession in his desperation?

Thor’s thoughts are torn from their dark musings when Natasha leans in a bit closer, linens at the ready.

But it’s not droplets of blood she’s wiping, no.

It’s tears.

Silent, shining trickles that fall from the corners of the man’s eyes, surely automatic and unbidden. He hasn’t so much as clenched his jaw in pain, but still his tears fall.

Thor didn’t know his heart could ache any more for this person, for this broken creature he’d found only hours before. And yet.

“You’re doing so well,” Natasha coos, voice low and calm. “Almost done. You’re so good. We’ve got you. We’re here.”

She keeps up a steady litany of praise as Tony keeps going, as the time between undoing stitches gets longer and longer, and Thor finds himself shift slowly from a firm grip into caresses.

His strong hands cup the man’s throat, stroke down the juncture of neck and shoulder, feeling the roughened skin from where his chains must have rubbed horribly. The man swallows, and Thor’s eyes track that movement, and then move along the abused seam of his lips, the smooth line of his nose, and into his eyes.

What he sees there is the most awareness he’s found yet.

It’s not much, but it’s something. Something teetering on the edge of confusion, more than anything else, if Thor had to put a name to it.

“We’re going to keep you safe,” he blurts out, causing Natasha to pause and look up. “We’re going to heal you. We’re going to take care of you. No one will ever hurt you again.”

With every sentence, Thor’s voice gets stronger. More sure. He’s not just anyone, no. He’s their Inquisitor for a reason.

“Don’t worry,” he continues. “We’ve got you. You’re going to heal, and you’re going to get stronger than ever, and you’re going to be free.”

There has been no trial, but Thor has already made up his mind. This man is innocent. There is no way that any crime he may have committed was done under his own will. His very essence is a testament to that.

He’s theirs, now. Thor knows it deep down, following the same instincts that had guided him to their fractured party through a blizzard. The same instincts that an ever-growing number trust, respect, and put their faith in.

Blood pools in the holes that line the man’s lips as Tony’s work proceeds, and Thor pets steadily at the bared, pale neck beneath his hands. The man still doesn’t move, though he continues to weep, and Natasha continues to dab at his tears.

When the final knot is pulled free, Tony twists and drops the lot of it, tweezers and thread together, onto the table, likely to be studied later.

Steve visibly relaxes, and Valkyrie is already uncorking a healing potion.

“Let’s get him sitting. Slowly,” Tony advises.

Steve actually has to move the man’s legs off the table, and it’s a toss up whether this is because their charge hadn’t understood Tony or because he’s in some sort of shock.

Regardless, they get him sitting, and that’s when the trembling begins. It’s minute, starting in the delicate hands that are clasped at his belly, and Thor follows that gaze until he finds it locked onto Valkyrie’s potion bottle.

When Thor’s eyes glance back again, he sees...something. Resignation? Hurt?

And then the man’s head tips back, and his lips part a scant half inch. Just enough to slip liquid inside.

Just as before, Thor  _ knows _ .

“Valkyrie, put the bottle down.” Thor’s voice is so commanding that she nearly drops it in shock. Rarely does he sound that way with her. “That’s how they fed him. Liquids only. Potions and lyrium to keep him going. That’s why—“ Thor’s stomach churns, “why his stitches never healed. They were reopened every time he needed to eat or drink. Oh, no. No, sweetling.”

Odd. Where had that come from?

“If you want potions, you’ll get potions. But if you want food? Water? Ale? That’s what you’ll get. From now on. No potions, now. Now is for resting.” Thor barely notices that he’s continued to stroke the other man’s throat, and because of such movements, he notices when those lips part for the first time, letting out a ghost of a breath.

Like the saint that she is, Natasha is at his side with a glass of lukewarm water, hopefully of a temperature that won’t be too shocking. It’s clean and clear and exactly what Thor is looking for.

“Thank you,” he offers, and she graces him with a small smile and a clean linen. “Oh. Yes. Right.”

Natasha and Valkyrie take on the task of supporting their patient as Thor gently wipes traces of blood from the man’s lips as best he can.

“Water?” he offers, raising the glass.

The man’s head tilts back, and his lips part again. He isn’t shivering anymore, which is progress, but Thor wonders…

“Would you like to hold it?”

Their patient blinks up at Thor’s face vacantly until Thor curls one of Loki’s hands gently around the glass. And together, they raise it to Loki’s lips. Bloodstains dot the clean glass, and new blood begins to swirl through the clear water, but Loki doesn’t care. He downs the whole thing.

“We’ll get you more soon,” Thor reassures him, watching as those emerald eyes track the now empty glass. “But first, what is your name?”

The man blinks up at him in confusion, so Thor tries a different tactic.

He points to himself, “Thor,” the goes around the circle, “Tony, Natasha, Steve, Valkyrie,” and then he gestures at their newest member.

Those eyes narrow, and the man takes a breath. “Saarebas. Mage.”

Thor shakes his head. Points at himself again. “Inquisitor.” And continuing, “Runesmith, rogue, Templar, warrior,” and to Loki, “mage.”

Then Thor tries names again. This time, when he gets to Loki, there’s a pause. In the man’s eyes, it’s like someone rekindling a fire that has long gone out. But somehow, an ember catches and sparks, and Thor hears the most beautiful word in the world.

Wounded lips part, the man’s whole body braces as if expecting to be struck, but he perseveres.

“Loki.”

And that, Thor is certain, is the sweetest sound he will ever hear. He’s as certain of it as he is of anything, and the sound of the name curls warm and comforting in his belly.

It’s not much, but it’s a start, and Thor beams down at him, completely enraptured.

“Loki,” he smiles. “Welcome home.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This close, Thor can see the trembling. It’s so minor that an untrained eye would likely not notice, but Thor is mere feet away from Loki’s mouth and can see the tremors that shake his lips.
> 
> “What has happened? What can I do, Loki? What’s wrong?”
> 
> Silence.
> 
> Silence that stretches on.
> 
> Loki swallows.
> 
> Closes his eyes.
> 
> Breathes in, seeming to steel himself.
> 
> “Am I to die here?” he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was stuck between posting two slightly shorter chapters or leaving you all hanging for a bit longer and posting one giant chapter. As you can probably tell, I chose the former. I hope that’s all right!
> 
> I’ve also changed the title to something I felt was more suitable. The previous title reflected Loki’s inner thoughts, but in truth, he does deserve Thor, doesn’t he? And they’ll both shine bright like diamonds~
> 
> I’ll attend to all of your previous comments as soon as I can! Thank you all so, so much for your wonderful responses! I certainly didn’t expect so much love and excitement~ If you could, and if you’ve time, please leave kudos and comments! I reread them to give myself motivation. ;;9 Emoji, keysmashes, poetry, anything is loved and adored! They make my whole world better. (And right now, I could sorely do with a dash of “better.”)
> 
> Also note: While I’ve played Dragon Age and have great respect for BioWare’s worldbuilding and lore, I’ll be...setting aside a few things here and there, if they don’t suit my purposes. This is, after all, a Thorki story! Not a lore book or game recreation. ;) So I’ll be playing with things a bit. Please stick with me!
> 
> Now, onward!

Tony coughs then, clearing the air a bit.

Thor has to admit, he had nearly forgotten everyone else was there.

“So, infirmary? I’m sure Bruce can’t wait to check him over.”

Thor is about to nod, but then he recalls the feel of Loki’s (Loki, Loki,  _ Loki _ ) hair under his fingers.

“A good idea, to be certain, but perhaps a bath is in order, first? Bathing afterward would only wash away any poultices the doctor would choose to use.”

Tony hums and waves away his magicked diagrams. “Ever the thinker, Thor.”

Valkyrie can’t help but snort at that, but Thor doesn’t mind.

“Do you want help?” Natasha offers. She directs the question toward Thor, not Loki. Not out of disrespect, but because she knows that Loki will not answer.

“I think we’ll be all right, won’t we?” Thor grins and lays a hand on one of Loki’s shoulders. He gets no response.

Tiny steps, he reminds himself.

“Though I would appreciate it if one of you could inform the good doctor that we’ll be visiting once the bath has been sorted out.”

“I’m on it,” Steve replies. “The infirmary is on my way back, anyway.” He gives them a gentle nod before turning on his heel and exiting the workshop.

Thor thinks for a moment. He has soaps and linens and anything else they might require in his private bathing chamber, but there’s one minor trouble left.

“Ah, Natasha?” She turns to look at him immediately. “Might you be able to find some new clothing for Loki? While we are near the same height, I fear all of my clothing might hang a bit loose on him. If you and Valkyrie were to work together,” Thor grins, “I’m confident you could hunt down something soft, warm, and comfortable, even.”

“No problem, Inquisitor.” Valkyrie gives him a wink and links arms with Natasha before the pair of them follow Steve’s route up the stairs and out the door, leaving only Thor, Loki, and Tony.

“So, if you don’t need me for anything, I’d be interested to do a little research on that thread we just removed.” Tony gestures back toward the bucket of water. “Wanna know where that rune came from, how they worked it, you know. Anything I can get. It’s horrible, but better to understand the enemy, you know?” he rambles.

“Absolutely. I’d be interested to know, if you have time to write up any reports.” And Thor speaks true. Whatever this magic is, he does want to understand how it works. All the better for undoing it in the future, hopefully in a less painful way.

Tony gives him a little salute with one bloodied hand before turning to his table, knowing they can see themselves out.

As they do.

Thor grips Loki confidently, though gently. He’s not sure what hold would be most comfortable for the other man. He doesn’t want to make him feel like a prisoner, but neither does he want to force an unwanted closeness. He settles for one hand at Loki’s elbow, leading him slowly up the stairs, through the door, and then across the main hall.

Most of the workers and other refugees pay him no mind, which Thor prefers. They’re well used to their Inquisitor running around, taking care of whatever needs doing, and only the newest members stop and stare, anymore.

His companion draws a few eyes, but the Inquisition attracts all sorts, and even those eyes fall away almost as quickly as they land.

“Just through here,” he murmurs before creaking open the door leading to his personal quarters. “We won’t be disturbed. Don’t worry.”

Loki doesn’t seem to worry at all. He just follows along placidly, apparently content to let Thor lead the way, right into the bathroom.

The bathing room is a marvel, or so Thor thinks. The ancients who built Skyhold had included a marvelous system of pipes that brought fresh water from the mountain springs into boilers before sending it on its way throughout the castle. Miraculous, really. His own private, heated bath.

There are public baths for the community to share, but being Inquisitor apparently comes with special privileges, and though he wouldn’t admit it, Thor rather likes them.

“I’ll fill the tub, and you can undress while I do so. I’ve got some clean linens in a cabinet over here, and I’m sure the soaps I use for my hair will work wonders on yours, too.”

Thor emerges with a handful of linens to find Loki standing stock still, watching the tub fill slowly with warm water.

“Loki?” Thor asks, and the most shocking thing of all is that Loki actually looks at him in response. “Loki, what’s wrong?”

Loki exhales through his nose, a sound almost like a whimper, and Thor throws the linens on a nearby end table in alarm before rushing to turn off the tap.

He steps in close to Loki, eyes raking over every detail of the man’s face, and raises his hand gently to cup the back of Loki’s neck. Loki hadn’t minded earlier, so hopefully he doesn’t mind now.

This close, Thor can see the trembling. It’s so minor that an untrained eye would likely not notice, but Thor is mere feet away from Loki’s mouth and can see the tremors that shake his lips.

“What has happened? What can I do, Loki? What’s wrong?”

Silence.

Silence that stretches on.

Loki swallows.

Closes his eyes.

Breathes in, seeming to steel himself.

“Am I to die here?” he whispers.

Thor is shocked. So shocked, in fact, that his jaw quite literally drops open, and it takes him a moment to gather himself back together.

“What?” is his eloquent reply. “What in Thedas— Loki, I… No! No, no, no. What happened? Was it something I said? I did? Why would you think such a thing?”

Loki’s eyes skitter over to the metal tub, shining beauty that it is.

Thor tries to see it through someone else’s eyes. What might it look like if he didn’t know what it was?

A pool of water, but for what?

For death? That made no sense!

Thor frowned in confusion.

“Loki, have you never seen a bath, before?”

Loki blinks at him.

So Thor decides to do his best to explain, as though Loki has no idea what he’s talking about.

“It’s an indoor pool for bathing. These handles, just here,” he points to the taps, “control the temperature. You can make the water as warm or as cool as you like. It’s quite comfortable and very relaxing, much moreso than a river or a wooden barrel.”

There’s a flicker of recognition in Loki’s eyes, and Thor thinks that maybe...maybe Loki really has never seen a proper bath. It’s not too hard to imagine, considering how he was trussed up. Thor doubts the Qunari gave their saarebas such niceties as indoor warm baths. But still, to not even have heard of such a thing…

Thor sighs. “Loki, watch.” And then Thor rolls up one sleeve and dips his hand in, running his fingers through the water. “It’s nice and warm. It will feel very good. It’s only for getting you clean.”

He has a thought then, and he begins pulling numerous bottles toward them. Soaps and oils collected over time, some purchased, some given as gifts, every one a treasure.

“See? These are for cleaning.” He kneels down and starts sorting them. “This one is for washing your body on normal days. And this one is for when you’re especially disgusting. I use it a lot after trips to the Fallow Mire. Ugh. And these,” he shifts some more bottles forward, “are for hair. This one for cleansing, this one for shine, this one for when it’s especially matted…”

Thor trails off and looks up to where Loki still stands, frozen. “Would you allow me to bathe you?” He’d been planning on leaving Loki to take care of himself, but considering that the man appeared to not even know what a bath was, well…

Loki’s head drops in what can only be interpreted as defeat.

Thor’s heart breaks more.

Loki won’t fight him. He’s sure of it. And Loki is also terrified, as much as his broken mind will allow him to be.

“Don’t worry,” Thor tries, aiming for the soothing tones Natasha had used.

And then the blond is standing, strong fingers working at Loki’s clothing and peeling it away from his skin.

It’s difficult, and it’s messy. It seems as though Loki hasn’t bathed properly in ages. Probably subjected to haphazard cleansing spells and quick splashes in rivers, if Thor had to guess. There’s grime hidden in the seams of his clothing, and the fabric sticks unpleasantly in some places.

Thor can’t wait to get him clean.

Once Thor has him naked, he leads the man toward the tub, only one hand on his arm.

“Step in,” he asks gently, doing his best to not sound commanding.

Loki complies.

And the noise he makes when his foot enters the water is one of unbidden surprise.

“I told you,” Thor murmurs. “It will feel good. Keep going.”

Loki inhales through his nose and continues to sink down. Thor guides him into a sitting position, then strips off his outer finery, leaving him in his underthings. He hopes Loki doesn’t mind, but he really doesn’t want the armor and other shiny bits to rust.

Loki is motionless.

Thor wonders if he’s watching the swirls of dirt that are already beginning to loosen and drift away in the water.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs before reaching toward the bottles. He kneels next to Loki and holds one green bottle up for him to see. “Remember this one? The one for cleaning hair? I’d like to start with that. We’ll move from the top down. Is that okay?”

Loki remains still for a few seconds before managing the smallest of nods.

Thor could leap for joy at the response.

“All right, then!” He grabs for a small cup balanced on the side of the tub and dips it into the water. If it were Thor alone, he would simply dunk himself underwater, but considering Loki’s fear, this seems a much better way to wet his hair.

“Tilt your head back,” he coaxes, using one hand to nudge Loki’s jaw upward. “Yes, perfect.” And then he’s pouring the warm water over tangled black locks. It takes several cupfuls to wet the entire mass, and Thor is careful not to get any into Loki’s eyes, though the man has since closed them.

Then it’s time for the shampoo. Thor pours a generous amount into one cupped hand, rubs both hands together, and then starts working the soap through Loki’s hair.

It takes more than one dash of shampoo, too. But Thor doesn’t mind. There’s something strangely meditative about doing this for someone else, no less because he can see the muscles in Loki’s shoulders start to relax as time stretches on.

Thor rinses the soap, then starts in on the detangler.

By the time he’s working the glossing oil through Loki’s hair, the other man seems to have settled into his bath rather well. But the evidence of Loki’s well-washed hair has permeated the water, and Thor thinks it’s best to drain the water and refill the tub.

He doesn’t want to frighten Loki, though, who has relaxed so much by now. And he has an idea.

“Loki, I’d like to replace the water, if that’s all right. It’s so dirty now. Would you like to help me? I can show you how.”

Loki blinks at him, and Thor grins at the small, inquisitive tilt of Loki’s head.

“You’re welcome to use my bathing chamber anytime you like, so I’ll show you how to work the tub.”

Thor reaches for a chain connected to the faucet. “See this? It’s attached to the plug that keeps the water from draining. To empty the tub, all you have to do is pull the chain. Like this.”

Thor gives the chain a tug.

Loki doesn’t jump, but he does lean forward to watch the water drain down into the pipes.

Once the tub is empty, Thor replaces the plug and points to the taps.

“These release the water. The left is for hot water, and the right is for cold. You can control the temperature of the water this way. Come.” Thor beckons Loki closer. “Try it.”

Loki scoots a bit closer, looking to Thor for orders.

“Grasp the left one,” Thor suggests. “Then you can choose how hot it will be.”

One delicate, pale hand curves around the tap.

“Very good! Now twist.”

Loki does, and Thor does the same. And together, they watch fresh, clean water pour from the faucet and into the tub.

Thor counts it as a victory that Loki seems curious, not frightened. His eyes, which Thor has since noticed are a brilliant emerald green, don’t stray from the spray of water.

When the tub is well-filled again, Thor breaks the relative silence. “And now twist back to turn off the water.”

Loki obeys, and Thor does the same.

“And that’s all! So any time you want a bath, that’s all you have to do. You’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure.”

Loki blinks up at him, and Thor smiles, doing his best to convey gentleness and encouragement.

“Now where were we? I think we should give you a good soaping down, now that your hair is finished.”

Of course, Loki says nothing, but that doesn’t stop Thor from reaching for a small washcloth, dousing it in floral-scented soap, and lathering it up.

Loki is pliant, seemingly content to let Thor lift and move his limbs as he pleases. Interestingly, Thor notes that the blackened color of Loki’s nails doesn’t seem to be from dirt, as he’d thought. It’s apparently natural. So Thor stops scrubbing at them so hard and moves on. Even when Thor reaches between his legs — in the most clinical way he can manage — Loki doesn’t bat an eye. He merely shifts his hips lower to give Thor access. And then it’s down along slim legs and well-shaped feet, despite the hard life Loki must have had.

Thor catalogues every bruise he comes across. Every scar. He does his best to ascertain how they were received, and his stomach churns to know that many of them were surely not received on the battlefield.

Mages generally were kept out of the front lines. The erratic burn marks and occasional knife scars can be explained away, but the lash marks on Loki’s back and thighs, the even burns that look like they were pressed in by irons, and most especially the marks that decorate his entire body.

Thor swallows. Decorate. That’s not the right word at all.

They are scars, to be sure. Shiny, clean lines. The kind of lines that were only gotten by very intentional knifework. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They wanted these specific patterns, and they wanted them to scar.

Loki’s legs, arms, chest, even his face had not been spared.

Thor will not cry. He won’t.

He swallows the lump in his throat.

Oblivious, Loki sits still and quiet as Thor washes and rinses his back.

“Okay, all done,” Thor finally announces.

One good point of Loki’s silence is that he doesn’t comment on how scratchy Thor’s voice has become.

“Stand up, and I’ll rinse you once more, then we’ll get you dried off.”

Loki obeys without hesitation, all slender limbs and smooth planes, and Thor sends cupfuls of water cascading down his body to chase the remaining soap away.

“Step out, Loki. Careful.” Thor offers his arm as assistance, but Loki doesn’t take it, instead balancing delicately on one leg, then the other.

Thor pulls the drain again and turns to grab a drying cloth. It’s soft and fluffy, he knows from experience, and he starts to pat Loki down gently.

“If you’re ever looking for these, they’re on that shelf.” He points to a standing set of shelves that might once have been a bookshelf but has since been repurposed. It currently holds all sorts of fabrics for bathing, along with extra soaps.

He scrunches the cloth through Loki’s hair, and he finds himself delighted at the way the dark locks are starting to curl at the ends.

“I’ve got some moisturizing creams that I sometimes use after bathing, when I’m feeling extra luxurious.” He smiles in what he hopes is an encouraging manner. “Would you like to try them?”

Loki doesn’t reply, but Thor didn’t expect him to. But he does decide to go ahead with the moisturizers.

Leaving the towel bunched on Loki’s shoulders to catch the droplets of water, Thor grabs at a small bowl near the sink. He lifts off the lacquered lid and scoops out a generous amount, spreading it between both hands.

“Let’s start from the bottom up, shall we?” Thor dives in with gusto, slicking up Loki’s calves and thighs, trying to imagine that he’s chasing away all of the bad history, the bad feelings. For his own benefit? For Loki’s? Thor isn’t sure anymore. But once he’s skimming Loki’s flanks and moving onto slender arms, he decides that he doesn’t care. Loki doesn’t seem to mind, and neither does he.

In the end, it’s only Loki’s hair that needs dressing, and Thor settles on a gentle hair oil meant to help the hair recover, rather than adhere to any sort of style.

And now that they’re done, Loki seems...not like a different person, quite, but his energy has certainly changed. He’s relaxed, having lost that knife’s edge between terror and resignation, and though he’s still placid, his eyes actually lock onto Thor’s face at times, tracking his movements.

Grinning brightly, Thor doesn’t know if he could be happier.

Well, maybe if he were a little less wet.

He looks down at himself and decides a change of clothing is in order. And he has to get Loki’s clothing, anyway.

“I’ll be just a moment, Loki,” he offers. “I know it’s a bit chilly. Bundle up with a fresh towel if you like, and I’ll grab your new clothes.”

Thor hustles out into the bedroom and strips off his shirt as he goes, already reaching for the wardrobe that holds his spare clothing. He changes quickly, eyes scanning his room as he slides his leggings up, then striding toward his door as he tugs the new undershirt on.

He doesn’t have to look hard. Natasha and Valkyrie has come through, as he’d been sure they would. A neat little package is bundled up at the foot of his stairs, and Thor snatches it up before racing back up to his bed.

Unwrapping the bundle, he finds a set of clothing nothing like finery. It’s plain and not brightly colored, but it’s soft to the touch. It’s in rather nice condition, to be honest, and Thor wonders who they might have bartered the set from.

Included are a pair of slippers. They’re surely unsuitable for any adventuring, as they won’t protect much and they likely won’t fit very well, but hopefully they’ll do until the Inquisition can commission a proper set of boots for him.

Thor notices suddenly that Loki must still be in the bathroom, as he’s certainly not to be seen in the bedroom.

“Loki?” Thor calls.

Striding back to the bathroom, Thor pokes his head in.

Loki hasn’t moved from his spot. He’s still stark naked and surely must be cold, but Thor notices, heart soaring, that Loki is looking around the room, rather than staring off into the distance, and his head turns to meet Thor’s gaze when the blond enters the room.

“Aren’t you cold?” Thor asks. “There’s some new clothing out here for you, if you’d like to try it on.”

He holds out a hand, feeling a little like he’s gentling a foal, and waits.

Loki blinks at him.

“Would you like to see? Come see, Loki,” he asks again.

Loki takes a shaky step forward. Then another. And slowly, he leaves one room and enters the bedchamber, all on his own. (Save Thor’s encouragement, but Thor will take what victories he can.)

“See, Loki?” Thor holds up the trousers in both hands. “These are for you. It’s the best we could find on short notice, but we’ll get something made for you that fits properly, soon.”

The mage drifts closer, eyes wide. He pauses at the side of the bed, looking down at the tunic and undershirt, then looks up at Thor.

Thor doesn’t let this discourage him.

“All right. Together, then. Underthings first.”

He leads Loki through the little dance of getting dressed, wondering what kind of things the other man usually wore and if he was left to dress himself. He does his best to keep his thinking positively, but doing so is difficult when his eyes, his touch, are full of too-prominent ribs, scar-raised skin, and emerald eyes darkened with shadows.

At last, Thor tightens the loose belt about Loki’s waist and helps him step into the slippers.

Hair still damp, body clean, clothes changed, he does look much more like a member of the Inquisition. Thor wishes as much. The fewer stares Loki attracts, the better.

He hopes they’ll be able to make it to the infirmary without someone nosy noticing the punctures that line Loki’s mouth.

“How are you feeling? All right? Comfortable?”

Loki tilts his head a moment, and the air grows thick. It’s like the other man is about to speak, and Thor’s breath catches, waiting—

Then, nothing.

Oh, well. Start small, he reminds himself. Small steps.

“I’d like our doctor to look at you, if that’s all right. No potions!” Thor adds quickly. “Just to see what we can do about getting you healthy. I’ll be with you the whole time. It’s across the courtyard, but I’ll show you the way.”

Copying his loose clasping of Loki’s elbow from earlier, Thor leads him back out into the main hall. Loki, of course, follows easily. And as before, no one pays them any mind.

Well, almost.

Stealthily as a shade, a large man comes striding up alongside them, golden eyes glowing luminously.

Thor is quite used to this, but next to him, Loki startles a bit. Thor can feel it.

“Inquisitor,” Heimdall begins, “your war table needs you, when you’ve the time. There are recent reports of increased darkspawn activity, and construction on the bridge has also been completed.”

Thor sighs. “I’ll take the good news with the bad, I suppose. Very well. I’ll see you there at dusk, if that’s amenable?”

Heimdall nods. “Inquisitor.” He nods again. “Loki.” And then he slides away as quickly as he’d come.

Next to Loki, Thor strokes his charge’s hand. “You get used to it,” he offers. “Heimdall knows everything. I’ve learned to stop questioning it.”

Loki’s lips close in what seems to be assent, and he trails along after Thor with little more fanfare.

Down the steps, across the courtyard, past the tavern, and they’ve arrived.

As always, the infirmary is near chaos. Cots full of injured soldiers and refugees line the walls. Volunteer herbalists weave in and out amongst them, and in the middle of it all stands Bruce Banner. The good doctor is shuffling through a few sheets of parchment, and his idle glance upward turns into a second glance when he sees Thor standing there.

“Inquisitor? What brings you down here?”

Thor steps closer, but Loki is suddenly as immovable as a stone.

“Loki?” Thor tries.

But Loki’s eyes have gone wide. His body trembles in fright, and he won’t budge despite Thor trying to coax him forward.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Thor’s mounting horror, Loki sinks to his knees, hands flat on the floor, head bowed, trembling.
> 
> “I’m a monster, but I’ve trained. I can be good. I won’t be possessed. I’ll fight for you. I don’t deserve your kindness, but please let me stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the long delay! Life exploded on me.
> 
> Comments and kudos are writing fuel, and they keep me going even when writing is hard. Thank you to everyone who has been with me and supported me thus far!

Bruce hums and gives Loki a once over, then nods in understanding.

“Mage?” he asks Thor, who nods. “Right. Let me just…” He turns to place his papers on a nearby table, then actually shoos them both out of the infirmary.

Loki’s steps hasten, and they probably would have brought him all the way back to the main hall, had Thor not pulled him up short.

Loki cowers. There’s no other word for it. Despite having a height advantage over Bruce, his eyes are full of terror, and he’s overcome with tremors in a way Thor hasn’t yet seen.

“Name?” Bruce asks Thor again.

“Loki.”

“Right.” Bruce directs his gaze to the terrified mage, now. “Loki. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Although I must admit I’m very impressed by your senses.” Bruce offers a halfhearted smile. “You’ve sussed me out. I’m an abomination. Most everyone here knows. Everyone in power, at any rate. But you’ve got nothing to be afraid of.”

Loki’s breath is still coming fast and shallow, and Thor can’t help but pull him close to his side. “Banner is a friend, Loki. And a very good spirit healer.”

“Thanks, Thor. I hope I’m helping.” Bruce turns back to Loki. “I house a spirit. Not a demon. A Justice spirit. It’s...kind of a long story, but I’ll tell you someday, if you want to know. But you don’t have to worry about me. You’re not going to get possessed, too. At worst, you’ll have me checking up on you extra because Justice is nattering on about it. Does that make sense?”

Loki whimpers, but he doesn’t bolt. Thor will count this as a victory.

“Right. Uh. Thor? What can you tell me?”

Thor takes a deep breath. “He’s a saarebas. Or was.”

Bruce makes a confused noise. “But he...I mean, sorry, but he doesn’t look Qunari. And I can’t imagine why another race would submit themselves to...that.” He coughs indelicately.

“Yes, we still haven’t figured that out. All I know is he was chained when I found him, and Tony unlaced his mouth which had been stitched together with some sort of runed thread. And now that he’s bathed and changed, I was wondering if there was anything else we could do for him.” Thor pauses. “Aside from food and lodging, of course.”

Bruce grumbles. “They rune those threads? Oh, I am going to have a field day with Tony over that.” He shakes his head. “Can I check your physical condition?” This last question is aimed at Loki, who takes a step backward.

Thor offers, “We’re pretty sure they fed him only fluids. Potions and the like. And every time he had to part his lips, the stitches reopened.”

Worn hands cover Bruce’s face, and he screams softly into them for a moment. “Right.” He clears his throat. “I don’t know why I expected any different.” A sigh. “If he won’t let me get close to him, I can’t assess any damage, but I can tell you that, if he’s been living off liquids, you’ll need to continue that for a while and slowly ease him into solid foods.”

He stares at Loki then, eyes discerning.

“As for his mental health? You’re on your own, Thor. I could maybe check some things out if he’d let me into his mind, but considering that he won’t even let me touch him, we’re a long way away from that. So for now, just be gentle and slow, okay? Don’t push too hard.”

Thor nods. “I can do that.” He turns to look at Loki. “We can do that, right?”

Loki still looks quite afraid, but he holds Thor’s gaze for a moment before dropping it.

“Ah, one more thing. I sent along a jar of—“

“Oh, I forgot!” Thor curses his forgetfulness. “It should still be in the Undercroft with Tony. I’ll collect it on my way back.”

“Good. That should help with the wounds, at least.”

“I’d been planning on letting him rest under your care, Banner, but I’m gathering that this would be a bad idea?”

Bruce chuckles. “Yeah, buddy. Your pal here is still about to leap out of his skin at the sight of me, so I’d definitely advise taking him back to your rooms, if you can.”

“It’ll be no trouble,” Thor assures him. “I’ll tend to his wounds and make sure he’s fed properly, liquids to start. Anything else?”

“Follow your heart, Thor,” Bruce offers. “It’s why we all have faith in you.”

Thor ducks his head at the praise. “And I am honored, my friend.”

And then to Loki, “Shall we?”

Loki can’t escape the perimeter of the infirmary fast enough. He takes the stairs back into the main hall nearly two at a time, and it’s not until they’ve cleared the door into the Undercroft that Loki collapses against Thor, shivering as though his worst nightmares have come true.

From what Thor knows of mages and possession, they very well could have. And he can’t fault the other man. Especially being treated as he has been, who knows what mages are told under the Qun?

Maybe Loki will tell him, someday.

“Hey, uh, this is touching and all, but can I help you?” Tony’s voice echoes from below their little platform.

“Stark, yes! I’ve come for the poultice that got left here prior.”

“The poul— oh! Yeah, it’s right here.” Tony snatches it up and strides across the workshop to meet them.

“Don’t you clean up well.” He grins and looks Loki up and down, from his damp hair to his clean clothes to his slightly dirty slippers.

Thor sighs. “Not the time, Stark.”

“Hey, honest compliment. We did good work, the lot of us. And I’ll get back to you on the rune thing. I’m still testing some stuff out.”

“Thank you, Tony. We’ll be off, for now.”

Tony waves a wrench at them in goodbye, and Thor leads Loki from the Undercroft. His shaking has lessened, which Thor takes to be a good sign, and Thor crosses the throne room quickly, noting for the first time that Loki’s eyes are drawn to the dragon throne that dominates the area.

Thor grins. “I’ll tell you the story sometime, if you like. I don’t normally decorate with the corpses of beasts I’ve vanquished, but there was a bet...ah, I’ll tell you later.”

They’re once again ensconced in the warmth of the Inquisitor’s quarters, and Thor encourages Loki to leave his muddy slippers at the door, next to Thor’s own boots, and pad up the stairs into the main room. Once there, Thor pulls out two warm pairs of socks, one for each of them.

“They’re not much, but they’re for you,” he says, offering one wool-knitted pair to Loki.

To Thor’s utmost surprise, Loki takes them. And even more surprising, he puts them on.

Thor might be practically glowing, as much as the mark on his hand, at any rate. (The mark that he keeps concealed underneath a glove unless he’s out adventuring.) Come to think of it, he wonders if Loki had noticed…

Ah, well.

“Ready for dinner, then? I’m sure I can get some broth from the kitchens, and maybe some tea. Do you like tea?”

Loki only blinks.

“I’m sure we’ll have great fun finding all of the foods you like! There’s a whole world of cuisine, out there!” Thor grins and leads Loki to the couch. “You can wait for me here, if you like. I won’t be long. You can also look at the bookshelves, the drawers, anything you want. I’ll be back soon!”

Thor doesn’t even think twice before clasping the back of Loki’s neck affectionately, and then he’s off like a shot.

It’s no trouble at all to scrounge something from the kitchens, especially as the Inquisitor. They’ve already got a bubbling stew, and Thor is careful to scoop out only the broth for Loki, though he loads up his own bowl with bits of meat and vegetables, along with some bread as an afterthought.

He’d asked the cooks for a tea to quell upset stomachs, since Loki’s poor nerves have no doubt been rattled all day, and they supply him with two cups of a sweet, floral-smelling infusion.

Balancing the lot on a tray, Thor makes his way carefully back up to his rooms.

He’s unsurprised to find that Loki hasn’t moved, but he’s looking at Thor’s bookshelves with mild interest.

“Can you read?” Thor blurts out, unthinking.

Loki’s head snaps toward him, and then, a slow nod.

“Wonderful! There are books here, of course, but we’ve got a rather nice library, too! I can show you later. Anything you’d like to read, it’s yours. Just make sure to return it when you’re done. Some of our members can get picky about the books.” Thor prattles on as he sets down the tray, collecting Loki’s bowl of simple broth and a spoon before offering both to the seated man.

Loki doesn’t take them.

Instead, the air grows thick again. Like Loki wants to say something, but won’t. Can’t.

“If you’ve any questions or concerns, you needn’t stifle them,” Thor offers gently, hoping to help him along. “I’ll answer anything you want, and if I can help you, I will.”

Loki swallows, and enough time passes that Thor sets down the bowl and seats himself beside Loki, waiting.

“Why?” Loki finally manages.

“Why...what?” Thor asks. A great many things could fall into that question’s answer, and he needs to know where to start.

“Why...help?”

Thor breathes out slowly. “Why help you, you mean?”

Loki nods.

“My, erm...job right now is saving the world. It sounds really ridiculous when I put it that way, doesn’t it? But part of that is trying to right wrongs. And Loki, what was done to you was very, very wrong.”

Loki’s shaking his head and leaning back, his arms wrapped around his midsection. “No. I’m wrong. I shouldn’t be… Where are my chains? I need… In-Inquisitor, please. I’m a monster. You don’t know. I’m dangerous. I need to be bound.” Loki sways, takes a breath. Thor wonders when the last time he’d spoken this much was. But there’s no time to get a word in, because Loki is continuing. “I can help you. I can fight. Are you my handler? Am I yours now? I can be good for you. I’ll be so good. Please.”

To Thor’s mounting horror, Loki sinks to his knees, hands flat on the floor, head bowed, trembling.

“I’m a monster, but I’ve trained. I can be good. I won’t be possessed. I’ll fight for you. I don’t deserve your kindness, but please let me stay.”

“Loki,” Thor drops down next to him, ignoring the way Loki flinches in favor of stroking gently up and down the man’s shaking back. “Of course you can stay. I would be so happy if you stayed.”

Loki looks up again suddenly. “Chain me! Please! I’m dangerous! I need...I need… I can’t…” Loki shakes harder, balling his hands into tight fists. “I won’t be a demon. I won’t. I won’t.” He begins to rock back and forth, and Thor, unthinking, grabs at both his hands.

The smaller man goes immediately still.

“You won’t. I’ve got you.”

Loki’s eyes snap up, then down, then up. Narrow.

“You want to see what I’m hiding.” It’s not a question. “You want to see why I’m the Inquisitor.”

Thor pulls both hands back, making sure Loki is watching.

“You’ve noticed the giant hole in the sky, surely?”

Loki nods.

“It’s part of a pair.” And then Thor pulls off his glove. On his palm, the rift glows and pulses. He doesn’t even feel it most days, but Loki’s reaction — a sharp inhale and a sudden backing away — reminds him of what should be most people’s reactions to it. And why he keeps it hidden.

“You’re...you…”

“A mage?” Thor laughs. “No, not at all. Not a drop of mage blood in me. I’m much better with a hammer or an axe. But this was, well...an oddly fortunate magical mishap. Curse me for wandering into places I shouldn’t, I suppose.” He spares a glance at Loki, who is still cowering at the opposite end of the couch but at least looks interested.

“As the hole in the sky spreads, so does the the hole in my hand. And as I close the rifts where the darkspawn climb through from the Fade, the mark shrinks. So I’m saving the world by saving myself, and vice versa.”

Thor offers his hand for Loki to touch, if he wants, but that invitation goes characteristically unheeded.

“It won’t hurt you. It can only hurt darkspawn. Demons. It can prevent them from manifesting. Drain them of their energy. So you see, Loki, if it’s demons you’re worried about, you’re probably better off with me than just about anyone else. If you were to suddenly become a danger, I could handle you.”

Loki’s posture starts to relax.

“But the doctor…”

“Bruce?” Thor chuckles. “He’s a gift. Amazing healer. Every now and then he’ll break into a rage, but we manage it by keeping him in the infirmary and not on the battle lines. Haven’t had an incident since. You can trust him.”

“But you can’t trust me.”

Thor blinks. “Of course I can. You’re as gentle as a kitten. Though I’ve no doubt that you’ve got enough fight in you to make even the most ferocious enemies quail. We just need to train you up a bit.”

“I need a handler!” Loki asserts again.

“No, Loki. Just training. None of the mages here have handlers. They don’t need them. Magic is just another skill to work on. It’s not innately good or bad. It all depends on what you do with it. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll stick close to you when I can. I promise I can take whatever you can throw at me. Would that make you feel better?”

Loki rubs at his neck, and Thor assumes he’s missing a collar that’s not there. But then he nods, and the tension in the room filters out.

“Wonderful.” Thor sighs. “Now that that’s sorted, what would you say to a spot of supper? It’s not much, because we need to go easy on your stomach, but it’s delicious, at least.”

This time, when Thor offers Loki the bowl and spoon, Loki takes it. The smaller man says nothing when Thor slips his glove back on, so focused is he on the soup bowl. Loki dips the spoon in carefully, like he has to think about the movements. He doesn’t sip from it, either. He more or less pours the broth into his mouth, sealing his lips around the handle.

Thor wonders if his wounds hurt.

But Loki doesn’t seem to mind. His hands tremble a bit, and without even asking, Thor is there to steady him, fingers curling gently around delicate wrists.

“I’d forgotten…” Loki trails off.

“Is it okay?” Thor asks. He really wants to ask if Loki himself is okay, but he doubts he’d get an honest answer.

“Taste. I forgot taste.”

The remark breaks Thor’s heart even more, but he manages to find joy in the fact that he’ll be able to supply Loki with all sorts of tastes, now. He has so very much to catch up on.

“I’d imagine it’s a good deal better than potions. Don’t get me wrong, Bruce is amazing at brewing them, but there’s not much you can do about the flavor. But food? There’s a whole world out there, Loki. And we’re just getting you started.”

To Thor’s surprise, Loki drops the spoon back into the bowl, lowers both hands, and begins to tremble.

“Loki?”

The smaller man whines, then swallows. “I— don’t deserve this.”

Thor bites his tongue and takes a breath. Then he reaches out with his unmarked hand and strokes gently down Loki’s cheek.

“Of course you do.”

Watering emerald eyes rise to meet his. Loki opens his mouth, closes it again, and slumps his shoulders. Thor assumes he doesn’t know what to say.

“This is why I fight, Loki. There are so many people suffering. And they deserve better. Everyone deserves to be free, to be happy and healthy. And I will do everything I can to ensure that.”

“Mages cannot be free,” Loki whispers. “The only freedom to be found is in servitude. To be unbound is to be destroyed.”

Thor sighs again and pets Loki’s hair, uncaring of how the gesture might look to someone else. In here, it is just the two of them, and he wants desperately to be an anchor for Loki. He wants to delve inside him and remove all of the filth that’s been beaten into him. He wants Loki to heal, to thrive, to be  _ more _ .

Baby steps, he reminds himself.

“Would you like to speak with some of our mages?” Thor asks. “See them in action, maybe?”

Loki doesn’t reply.

“Think about it,” Thor asks. “I know they would be happy to meet you.” He reaches down to cup the bowl of broth, hand closing over Loki’s more delicate one. “But for now, let’s start with more food, yes?”

Loki raises the spoon again, though he does not speak, and tucks into his meal carefully.

Thor’s own stew tastes a little like hope.


End file.
